


Now Honey, Don't You Cry

by Istealurfrenchfries



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Fear, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Istealurfrenchfries/pseuds/Istealurfrenchfries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank has always had an irrational fear of thunder, but when it causes a breakdown beyond that of 'irrational,' Gerard vows to find the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now Honey, Don't You Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing from My Chemical Romance and do not intend to gain any profit from my writing.  
> Warning: This story mentions child abuse, although nothing graphic.

Thunder boomed outside, accompanied by frequent cracks of lightning. Heavy rain downpoured against the hotel window. Wind howled loudly, but no one seemed to be bothered by the noise. Cars still drove on the road even as their lights were barely visible through the onslaught of weather.

Frank laid in a fetal position, painfully awake in his hotel room. The band was in Ann Arbor, Michigan, but instead of bunking down on the bus, it was a long awaited hotel night. Thankfully, they each got their own room, which meant that no one would have to witness Frank's night-lasting panic attack.

Lightning cracked right outside the window, sending him cowering against the mattress miserably.

_Frank hated storms._

He hated them with a serious fucking passion, the phobia going back to his early childhood. The rest of the band knew, obviously. It was kinda hard to hide something like that when his time was spent in a cramped tour bus with four other guys, and not every night was clear skies.

They just didn't know why. None of them, and Frank wasn't planning on telling. He might as well fall into a deep, dark hole and die of shame. He'd never resurface and no one would ever have to find his body.

Normally, he'd just hide in his bunk, blast his music in his ears, and wish death upon himself until the storm went away. Sometimes Bob or Mikey would hear him, given that their bunks were next to his, and they'd make small attempts at comforting the guitarist before giving up and returning to what they had been doing before.

It was either really late at night, or really early in the morning, Frank couldn't tell. His shaking was worse than usual, which wasn't really surprising. While he was glad for the long forgotten privacy, at least on the bus he knew the other guys were near him. At least then, Frank didn't feel so alone.

He crawled off the bed and reached into his bag, pulling out his forever faithful ipod. Frank tried to turn it on but cursed when he found it dead. He hadn't thought to bring a charger into the hotel, because he hadn't thought world war three was going to open up in the sky that night.

He sat, crouched down by the duffel bag for a moment longer, willing his legs to function properly so he could stand upright. Frank snuck a glance up at the clock on the bedside table. **'2:39 A.M.'** glared back at him in glowing red font. He sighed resentfully and slowly stood on unsteady legs.

Walking back to the bed, another clap of ground shaking thunder sent Frank skittering to the hard wood floor instead. A sharp gasp left his lips as he tumbled down, roughly scraping his bare knee that his shorts didn't cover. The familiar warm, sticky wetness of blood spread from the wound, only increasing his ongoing state of panic.

Frank scooted backwards until he felt his back press up against the wall. He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, then sort of rocked himself back and forth, internally screaming for the rain to stop falling and the thunder to stop rolling. He silently begged for the sick feeling of nausea to pass and for the room to stop spinning around him.

It didn't work.

An involuntary shriek left Frank's lips when the whole room lit up with lightning, followed by the loudest thunder yet. His shoulders hunched forward as he buried his face in his knees and clenched his hands in attempt to stop them trembling. Frank's frame shook hard enough that his back thumped against the wall repeatedly.

Why was no one calling an evacuation? Lightning was going to hit the building. Doesn't anyone care that they were all about to die? What if they forgot about him or couldn't find him because he was hiding in the corner of his room?

Suddenly, the door cracked open and dim light spilled into the room. A whole new wave of anxiety and adrenaline coursed through Frank's system, a cry escaping him.

"Frank?" It was Gerard, clad in an Iron Maiden shirt and plain black sweatpants. His hair was messy and tangled.

"You okay? I thought I heard you scream." Frank shook his head, refusing to look at his bandmate. His mind scattered hopelessly.

 _Not now. Please_ , Frank thought frantically. He couldn't stand to let Gerard see him like this. He didn't want to be seen in his pathetic state. _Please go away. I can't take it._

"I-I-I'm f-fine. You can go b-back to bed." Damn his voice for betraying him and shaking. He made a mental note to master the art of faking emotions.

"Are you sure?" Concern laced into his voice. Frank hated that. He hated people worrying about him.

"You don't loo-" Gerard was cut off by yet another crack of lightning, except he didn't seem to be affected at all by the weather. He watched as his best friend flinched, jerking straight up and smacking the back of his head on the wall. Frank's eyes were wide and scared, glistening with unshed tears.

He cried out and curled in on himself again, arms locked in a death grip around his legs and torso. The room was stuck in a washing machine again, colours mixing and spinning and spreading until Frank was sure he was about to throw up. Or pass out. Maybe both.

_Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop._

Frank wasn't expecting another pair of arms to wrap around him, and startled, he tried to jerk away. Gerard was sitting next to him on the floor, gently pulling his shaking body into his lap.

Gerard was such a hugging, cuddly type of person, and normally Frank was too, but the anxiety had him as stiff as a board. It didn't deter the singer though, because he just smoothed Frank's hair back soothingly.

"It's alright, Frankie. You're gonna be fine." His voice was soft and gentle and Frank broke, clinging to Gerard and letting loose a strangled, bitten off sob.

Another sob followed. Then another. Then another, and soon, he was full out crying into his friend's shoulder. Frank was beyond caring about how weak he look, he just wanted the storm to stop. He needed just the slightest amount of relief. A warm hand rubbed his back while Gerard made small shushing noises in his ear.

"It'll be over soon, I promise. Just try to relax, Frank."

"Can't," Frank managed to gasp out, face tucked into the crook of Gerard's neck. "Gee, I can't." Didn't he understand? Frank couldn't even think clearly, let alone relax. 

"Yes, you can. It's gonna be okay. Trust me, it'll all be okay." Frank snaked his arms around Gerard's mid-section, trying to control his breathing. Listening to Gerard's steady heartbeat gave him something to focus on rather than the impending doom outside.

"Good. Just relax, I think it's starting to let up."

He wasn't lying either. The rain was slowly -much too slowly- decreasing, the thunder growing quieter. After about another fifteen minutes of pure torture, the storm was reduced to just the sound of water dripping from buildings. Thank whatever lord was out there, because Frank had had enough.

They stayed, huddled up until Frank heard Gerard suck in a sharp breath.

"Frankie, you're bleeding," he reached out and softly prodded Frank's scraped knee. Frank hissed in pain but shook his head dismissively.

"It's fine," his voice was hoarse and obviously didn't reassure Gerard, because he untangled himself from Frank and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a wet washcloth. Crouching down, Gerard cleaned up the superficial wound with gentle hands. Frank looked at him tiredly.

"How'd you even get in, anyway? I thought I locked it."

"Brian picked a cheap hotel, the locks kinda suck. And-" He paused, setting the cloth aside once he'd finished. "And one door wasn't really going to stop me after I heard you scream."

"Oh," Frank said, feeling stupid. Well shit, Gerard really cared that much? "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's not a problem, I know you don't like thunderstorms." Frank's face reddened in embarrassment. "You've never really said. Is there any particular reason why you dislike them so much?"

"I don't know." It was a complete lie. He hated lying to his best friend, but he wasn't willing to say the real reason. "Just an irrational fear, I guess." Gerard gazed at him, eyes searching his face. After a few moments, he nodded, standing and helping Frank to his feet.

"You alright now? I'm gonna head back to bed, if that's okay." At Frank's nod, Gerard gave him one last quick hug and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Frank sighed and collapsed on the bed. He was far too exhausted to think anymore, and was asleep before he had even pulled the blankets over himself.

~OoOoO~

_"I can't take this anymore!"_

_A seven year old Frank hid in the cupboard closet under the stairs. He listened to the yelling voices across the house with wide, fear striken eyes. He bit his lip until he bled, trying to suppress hysterical cries._

_Several loud bangs sounded from the kitchen as Mr. Iero took his frustrations out on the walls. Frank heard his mother scream when his father flipped the dinner table over, glasses and plates crashing and shattering on the floor._

_Rain poured outside and the couple's angry shouts grew louder with the thunder. Usually during these fights, the two would have to at least keep it quiet enough that the neighbors didn't hear. However, now with the storm, the volume rose fast and insults became uglier with every minute. Frank's parents fought a lot, it had been getting worse over the past year. Normally, it was arguments over finances or extended family. This time though, it was a dispute over Frank himelf. His father wanted to leave them both. Mrs. Iero didn't want to be stuck by herself with a seven year old son._

_It was a battle where no one wins, certainly not the little boy hiding in the closet._

_Frank clasped his hands firmly over his ears in attempt to block out the noise. The house shook and he couldn't tell if it was from lightning or the domestic war happening three rooms away. It didn't matter anyway. All he knew was that he was terrified. Of his parents, of the storm, all of it. Claustrophobia crept into his system from sitting in the confined space for too long, but he didn't make any effort to leave his hiding spot. It was worse out there, Frank was sure._

_Finally, there was one last slam of the front door as his father left. Everything was silent for one long horrible moment until Frank couldn't contain the whimper that slipped from his lips. That whimper turned into a cry, which turned into a broken sob. A sick feeling came over him, and Frank finally understood it as hatred. He was hated by his own family. They didn't want him. That realization made him dizzy with contempt._

_Suddenly, the closet door swung open and he came tumbling out onto the floor. His mother was standing over him, a look of anger and disgust written across her face._

_"This is your fault!" She screamed, bringing a hand hard across the boy's face just as another roll of thunder sounded around them._

Frank gasped, bolting straight up. His head made harsh impact with the bunk above him and he groaned, falling back and bringing a hand to his forehead where he could already feel a bump forming.

He laid, waiting for his breathing to slow when he heard rain. Fuck, it was always the storms that induced these kind of dreams. Well, at least it was just rain this time, and not a fucking tornado. That would bring on the really bad memories.

It had been two weeks since the incident at the hotel in Michigan. He spent the time drowning in embarrassment while Gerard, being Gerard, was forever oblivious to his discomfort. He didn't mention anything to the others, but Frank caught him giving worried looks the next day.

"Hey, you okay?" Speak of the devil. Frank rolled his eyes irritably, feeling oddly pissed off for no good reason.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a weird dream." Maybe if he concentrated hard enough, he could preform mind telepathy and tell Gerard to leave him the fuck alone. Maybe.

"That's not what I meant." As if to get his point across, it started to thunder. Shit.

"Yeah, well, I'll live." Frank shivered, but he refused to have another breakdown. Not with their bandmates so close. "Seriously, I'm fine, Gerard," he stopped, glancing around. "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight." Gerard looked at him with those stupid, hazel eyes that Frank could too easily get lost in.  "I don't think it's irrational, y'know," he spoke the words almost like an afterthought. Like he hadn't meant to say them, but it sort of leaked out anyway.

"What?"

"You told me you have an irrational fear of thunder. I think you're lying," he stated matter of factly. Frank flushed deep red, desperately wishing that Gerard was wrong. He wished it was only a dumb, irrational fear. It wasn't though, and he couldn't change that. He couldn't change the fact that every time he heard thunder, his mind instantly thought of pain. He couldn't erase the memories no matter how happy with life he became or how much alcohol he consumed. They never went away.

"Why do you even care? No one else does."

Gerard's gaze softened and Frank almost spilled his secret right then and there. Dammit, he wanted to tell him. He wanted to let Gerard hug him and say that it would all be okay. He wanted to give in, press his face to Gerard's shoulder and wrap his arms around him.

But he kept quiet, biting his own tongue. He could never live with it if Gerard realized that he hated Frank too. He'd hate Frank just like his parents hated him.

"I care about you, Frankie."

And with that, he was gone, retreating back to his bunk and leaving Frank mystified. What did Gerard mean, 'I care about you?' What the hell was he supposed to say to that? A deep longing stirred in Frank's chest, but he squashed it back down. Gerard couldn't have meant anything more than friendly intentions, he was sure. He had to be sure. If Frank believed that he had just the smallest chance, he'd never stop trying. That would only end in disaster and unwelcomed heartbreak.

Frank didn't get back to sleep that night. Whether it was from the storm or his Gerard-infected thoughts, he didn't know.

~OoOoO~

The next day was hell, complete and utter hell. Frank was running on two hours of sleep, they had a show that night, and it was still storming. The exhaustion did absolutely nothing to help him relax. If anything, he was even more on edge than usual.

He spent the earlier part of the day hidden in his bunk while Mikey tried to coax him out and persuade him to eat breakfast. It ended with Bob and Brian manhandling the shaken guitarist out of his den. They had dragged him into the kitchenette, where Gerard then proceeded to force shitty cereal down his throat.

The food didn't set well, and every crack of thunder made him feel like throwing up. They had hours before the show, and Frank now sat with his guitar in the tiny back room that they used as a makeshift studio. He was playing random notes and melodies to calm himself, and he actually seemed to be succeeding when Ray stuck his head in, looking worried.

"Hey."

Frank raised an eyebrow in response. "Um, hello." Ray sat next to him, biting his lip. It was weird seeing Toro nervous. It didn't look right with his usually smiling face and big hair.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just-" He forced a small chuckle. "The weather is getting worse and we have a show in a few hours."

"Yes, and?" They were performing indoors, so there would be no reason to cancel the show. Frank set his guitar to the side, glancing back up at Ray.

"And we didn't know if you wanted to play tonight."

Ray was still talking, but Frank didn't hear him after that. Anger welled up inside of him. Anger at the rest of the band for thinking he was pathetic enough to bail on a show. Anger at himself for being the weakest link of the band. He hated the thought of the other guys talking behind his back like that. He tuned back in when he realized that Ray's lips were still moving.

"I mean, we could find someone to fill in for you. I think Mik-" He was abruptly cut off by Frank scoffing angrily.

"I don't fucking need anyone to fill in for me," he fixed him with a glare.

"Don't talk to me like I'm the biggest burden everyone has to deal with." In the back of his mind, he knew he was being an unholy asshole. He knew that they were worried about him, but it just made Frank feel exactly like that. A burden.

His hands started shaking and he clenched them into fists. The unreasonable part of him felt betrayed, like everyone had turned against him.

"Frank, you know I didn't mean it like that," Ray looked troubled. "Look, everyone has an irrationa-"

"It's not irrational, Ray! It was never irrational!" Frank shouted, then mentally cursed himself for letting the sentence slip and dragged in a deep breath. "I'm playing tonight, alright? I'll be fucking fine."

He watched as Ray held up his hands in surrender, standing and practically running out of the room. Frank breathed hard, feeling even worse than he had before. He could feel the rain falling harder on the bus and let out a heavy sigh.

_Frank Iero, classic fuck up._

Putting his earbuds in, he blasted The Misfits and stared at the wall for an uncertain amount of time. The seconds and minutes blurred as he silently sang lyrics he knew by heart. He didn't even notice his eyes drifting shut.

Apparently, he did fall asleep, because Brian was suddenly shaking him awake, ripping the earbuds from his ear. Frank looked around groggily, confused when his head seemed to be resting on the floor. He realized that he'd fallen out of his chair and was sprawled out on his side. His arm was tucked under him at an uncomfortable angle.

"Frank! Hurry up, we're at the venue. Get up and get ready, the show is in an hour." Frank's attention snapped back to him and he groaned tiredly in response. He dragged himself up into a sitting position, waving Brian away.

Getting ready and grabbing his guitar, an unsettling feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. It was bad outside, he could hear it, maybe even worse than the night in the hotel. The guitarist shuddered, already dreading the next few hours.

He was the last to make it into the building, sprinting through the back door after the others. He was already soaked and shaking, though not from the cold. Taking a few calming breaths, Frank joined the others and stood next to Bob. He avoided eye contact with Ray, filling up with shame as he remembered his earlier outburst.

Gerard was standing in front of a mirror on the wall, singing to himself. Even through his inner conflict, Frank still couldn't help but stare at the singer. He looked good -no, great- with his raven hair hanging in his face and heavy eyeliner smudged perfectly. The black leather jacket and tight jeans hugged his body just right, and Frank had to consciously keep himself from drooling.

"Dude, stop oogling my brother," Mikey hissed from his spot beside the guitarist. Frank went wide eyed and turned to him, truly at loss for an excuse. Thankfully though, Mikey didn't say anything else on the subject and simply went back to messing with his bass.

Frank felt the tension build in his shoulders as he looked around the room again, purposefully skipping Gerard. Bob was sitting in the corner with a blank expression, tapping the wall with his drumsticks. Ray had started to sing in sync with Gerard, warming up his voice. Frank knew he should be doing the same thing, or tuning his guitar, or something other than just standing there. However, with the distraction of Gerard gone, he had to fight to just keep from shaking. The fear had returned, and he didn't know if he could even force his hands to play. Part of him was ready to take Ray's offer and skip the show, but the other, more stubborn part of him was hell-bent on showing everyone that he wasn't weak. He had to do this.

Finally, they were about to go on stage, and Frank's nerves were on end. Except these weren't the normal pre-performance nerves. They were heavy, like a brick over his chest, like twenty bricks piled over his chest.  He clutched his guitar tight in his hands when he found his place. The entire place was packed, hundreds of kids screaming in excitement. Usually, Frank loved it, he got high off the shouts and hollers. Now, he had to force a hesitant smile, a far cry from his normal over-dramatic grin.

Gerard walked up to the microphone with a huge smile, though the faint worry lines at the corner of his eyes were visible, even from across the stage. No one in the audience noticed, all caught up in what could be the best night of their lives.

"Now it's storming bad outside, but we're gonna play fuckin' loud for you all tonight!" The crowd cheered, but something in his voice made Frank think the sentence was more meant for him rather than the fans. It was like Gerard was trying to reassure him that they were going to try and block out the storm for him. Frank didn't even have time to decide whether to be grateful or not before they were launching into the set.

The first few songs were alright. He was still on edge, but he could at least function properly. He even managed to thrash around stage a little bit, only appearing the slightest bit uncomfortable. He even kissed Gerard twice, making the front few rows scream.

Of course, because the universe hated him, right in the middle of Helena, Frank heard loud thunder boom above them.

Shit.

He froze, missing several notes. It was an agonizing long moment before his fingers somehow remembered how to work again. They continued playing hard, but Frank could practically feel his bandmates watching him with worried eyes.

The wind grew louder, howling against the side of the building. His legs started to tremble where he stood, and all his focus was on the frets. Frank stopped moving around, hoping to God that the crowd didn't notice his sudden loss of enthusiasm. The sound of the storm and Bob's drumbeat began to merge together, leaving him winded. The rest of the band started to drift away and Frank had trouble keeping track of where they were. His hands felt numb and his head too light on his shoulders.

His fingers slipped again and he hit the wrong note during Dead. From the corner of his eye, Mikey was giving him a concerned look. Frank wanted to tell him he was fine, but he just wasn't. Frank was so far off from being even remotely fine.

He couldn't hear them anymore. The thunder was louder in his head than in reality, and soon, that was all he could hear anymore. Only the thunder. It was suffocating him, like Frank was drowning at the deep end of the pool and no one was there to save him.

Every time he blinked, Frank saw his mother. She was glaring his him in hatred, disappointment colouring her face.

He didn't know when he had stopped playing, but his fingers weren't moving anymore. His knees wobbled unsteadily, threatening to dump him flat on his ass. He didn't see Gerard's eyes on him in worry, now singing with less spirit than before.

He blinked again. His face stung and he recoiled as he felt a hand slap him across the face.

_This is your fault._

The thunder was his father's boots on the floor, stomping out of his life forever and leaving him with a women who couldn't stand him. He was seven again, locking himself in a closet to hide from the people he could never bring himself to trust. He started to get dizzy, his head swimming. This couldn't be happening.

_Your fault._

Suddenly, someone was tugging on his arm and he was forced out of his stupor. It was Mikey, bringing Frank back to earth. Looking around, he realized that it was over. The kids were filing out, grins on their faces.

Instead of relief, an even greater wave of panic washed over him.He couldn't breathe, his own skin was choking him. It felt like someone's hands were wrapped around his neck, squeezing the life from him.

_Failure._

Someone else brought his guitar strap over his head, taking it away while Mikey led him along. He stumbled, his legs not listening to him when he told them to work.

_Hatred._

He faintly heard frantic talking around him, but it was all muddled. All he was capable of registering was the repeated banging in his ears, amplified a thousand times by hysteria.

_Burden._

As soon he made it off stage, Frank took off running. He had to get away, had to breathe. The others were calling his name, yelling after him but he didn't stop. He sprinted down the halls. Running until he found the dressing room they'd been granted. He wrenched the door open and bolted inside.

_This is your fault._

Frank let out a strangled, wordless scream. He couldn't take it, too many memories overloaded his brain. If it didn't stop now, his head really would explode, of that he was certain.

Frank's lungs burned and he barely got to the couch at the end of the room before his legs gave out and he collapsed on it. He held his head in his hands, fingernails digging into the skin and leaving dark half moon indentions on his forehead. They were sure to bruise, but he didn't stop.

Something had to give.

Frank heard the faint sound of a door opening and closing, then someone was next to him, pulling his body against their chest. Their arms wrapped around him, a hand resting at the small of his back.

"Frankie, honey, stop screaming. Please, it's over now." It was Gerard, thank God. Frank didn't think he'd be able to handle it if it turned out to be a crew member who found him.

Frank hadn't realized he had still been screaming, but sure enough, the awful noise was continuing to violently rip through his throat. He forced it to stop, but then he was crying. Horrible, deep guttural sobs that no person should ever, ever make, and he had no control over it.

Frank finally gave in and melted into Gerard's embrace, flailing his arms clumsily around the singer's shoulders. He buried his face in his neck, gasping and whimpering.

"It's over now, sweetheart," Gerard shushed him quietly, gently running his fingers through Frank's hair. It didn't even begin to calm him, and he screwed his eyes shut, begging for everything he was worth for this nightmare to stop.

"Make it stop, Gee. P-Please make it stop," he moaned in agony. "I ca-can't take it."

He didn't even know if it was still storming or not, his heart was pounding too loud to be sure. It didn't matter anyway, he'd already gone crazy, already fucked up everything. They were going to lock him up for having a nervous breakdown in front of hundreds of people. He also knew that Gerard couldn't possibly be expected to understand what was wrong. How could he? He didn't know why Frank was incapable of handling a stupid thunderstorm.

But Frank was lucky, he had a great best friend who didn't ask the wrong questions at the wrong times. Gerard just cleared his throat quietly, tugging Frank more firmly against him and leaning back into the couch.

"These are the eyes and the lies of the taken," he started singing softly in that low, gorgeous voice of his. "These are their hearts, but their hearts don't beat like ours."

He was singing one of Frank's favorite songs, his lips right next to his ear.

"They burn cause they are all afraid, for every one of us," Gerard rubbed his back gently. He paused when Frank pulled in a ragged breath, clearly attempting to relax. Gerard's voice was too beautiful to be crying to. "There's an army of them, but you'll never fight alone," Gerard rested his chin on top of Frank's head. Frank clung to the calmness in his voice and he tightened his arms around the singer, like he was afraid he'd get left alone in the dark again.

"Cause I wanted you to know." He paused to press a kiss to Frank's temple, listening as the guitarist's breathing had begun to even out.

"That the world is ugly, but you're beautiful to me," he smiled just a little as he sang. "Well, are you thinking of me now?" Gerard's voice started to fade out after that, seeing as Frank had almost completely grown quiet now. He brushed his hair away from his face.

"You alright, Frankie?" He asked him softly, although he knew that Frank probably didn't even remember the definition of 'alright.' "I ruined the show," Frank mumbled into Gerard's chest. His shoulders were slumped dejectedly and Gerard hugged him tighter.

"No, you didn't. I don't think any of the fans actually noticed," he tried to reassure him."You were out of it though, especially after Helena. Tell me what happened, Frank."

"I..I can't-I don-," Frank stuttered and Gerard shook his head.

"You've gotta tell me what's going on. What happened back there-," he gestured towards the door that lead to the stage. "-that goes beyond just an irrational fear."

Frank gulped audibly, making no attempt to hide his discomfort. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be.

"Y-You'll hate me." A tear slid down his face and Gerard leaned forward to wipe it away, shushing him.

"No I won't. I could never hate you, Frankie," he gave him a small smile. "I'm listening, honey."Frank's head dropped to Gerard's shoulder and he took a few deep breaths, trying to build up courage.

"I-Um, you know how I told you that my parents divorced when I was little?" At Gerard's nod, he continued.

"Well, I, uh, lied. They never officially divorced as much as my dad just left." Gerard raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, but how does this tie into your fear of thunderstorms?" His voice was soft, but Frank flinched anyway.

"The-the night he left, th-they were fighting bad. They were fighting over me," he shuddered.

"N-niether of them wanted me." Frank snuck a glance at Gerard, who had a look of anguish on his face. Frank didn't understand, he had expected him to be angry because Frank had lied. He knew Gerard couldn't stand to be lied to. Heaving a sigh, he carried on.

"And when he left, it was storming. I thought it was over, b-but then my mother slapped me. She said it was my fault." He clenched his eyes shut, traitorous tears falling from them. It hurt to say it out loud. "And after that, she wou-would-"

"Frank, were-" Gerard interrupted, his voice pained. "Were you abused?" He nodded brokenly, pulling away from Gerard. He bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

"That's w-why I can't deal with thunderstorms. The beatings were worse during storms because she never had to worry about anyone hearing," his voice cracked on the last word and he hid his face in his hands.

Frank waited for his friend to run away from him. If he looked up, he expected to see Gerard's face twisted repulsively in disgust. He would be left alone again with nowhere to go.

"Oh, sweetheart." Strangely, he was being engulfed into another hug. Frank whimpered through his tears, terrified.

"Pl-Please don't leave me alone," he gasped out. "I'm sorry."

"Shh, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Gerard pulled him closer, a hand on the back of his head and another at his waist. "Don't apologize, Frankie. It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it is!" He yelled into Gerard's shoulder. "It's all my fault, an-and now you hate m-me, and-"

"Why would I hate you, honey?" Gerard brought a finger under Frank's chin and tilted his head up so he could his face. "Did you think I was going to be mad?" Frank nodded slowly, sniveling.

"I lied to you about my past," he stated. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Frank, I don't care about that," Gerard touched his cheek gently, eyes soft. "It doesn't matter to me, as long as I know now. I wanna help you. You don't have to be alone during through this anymore, okay?"

"So," Frank spoke slowly. "So you're not mad?"

"I'm not mad," Gerard smiled, then looked at him with a solemn expression. "You know you're going to have to tell the others too. They need to know." Frank's eyes widened and he shook his head frantically.

"No! They'll think I'm pathetic," his eyes fell downcast. "They'll know how messed up I really am."

"Do you trust me?"

Frank nodded slowly.

"Then you can do this. It'll all be okay, I promise."

Thankfully, he was right too. When they caught up to the rest of the band and Frank told them his secret, he was immediately relieved by how supportive they were. Ray even gave him a huge hug and told him that he was obviously forgiven for his earlier outburst. Of course, Ray's hair kind of smothered him in the process, but it was the thought that counted, right?

The entire time, Gerard just stood there with a knowing smile.

~OoOoO~

Gerard was shaken awake when someone slid into his bunk with him. They curled into his side with an arm slung across his chest.

"Frankie?" He slurred groggily, then paused. "It's not-I-I don't hear any thunderstorms. What's wrong?"

After the night at the venue, Gerard had never left Frank alone during a thunderstorm. It was nothing new for Frank to crawl into his bunk with him in the middle of the night while it was raining. Frank would cling to Gerard while he sung him back to sleep.

But it wasn't storming now, all Gerard heard was the smooth sound of the bus on highway. Concern coiled in the pit of his stomach, effectively waking him up completely. The thought of Frank dying flashed into his mind and panic alarms started to go off inside his head.

"Nothing's wrong, Gee," Frank smiled, fingers tapping on Gerard's side absentmindedly. Gerard released a sigh of relief, willing his heart to calm down so he could listen. "I just couldn't sleep and I..wanted to see you," he nervously bit his lip. "Sorry, I'll go."

He started to untangle himself and climb off the bed but Gerard pulled him back against his body, tugging the blanket over them.

"No, you're fine," he reassured him. "You can always come sleep with me, you know that." Frank happily laid his head on Gerard's chest, wrapping his arms more firmly around him and grinning when he felt a pair of arms settle around his waist. Their legs tangled comfortably, or as comfortable as the limited space of a bunk would allow. Frank suddenly had the pleasant mind image of him and Gerard curled up together in a real bed. Too bad it would never happen. Well, not in the sense that Frank wanted anyway.

Frank was just closing his eyes when Gerard spoke again. "So why couldn't you sleep?"

"Thinking." Frank couldn't help but press a kiss to Gerard's neck. He swore he heard his friend's breathing hitch.

"About?"

"About, um," Frank sighed as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "Do you know when someone surprises you by something in their personality? I don't know, compassion, I guess. And then you learn this whole new side of them that you never thought existed." Frank tilted his head so he could see Gerard. "And you can't help but be drawn towards them, but it feels like you're screaming at someone who can't hear you. Like no matter what, there's no way to get through." He shook his head. "Nevermind, I'm not making any sense. Just forget I sai-"

"No," Gerard interrupted, cupping Frank's cheek with one hand. "I understand."

"You do realize who I am talking about, don't you?" "I hope, because this will be a huge failure if I'm wrong. And then I will have to quit the band, move to Australia, and drown in humiliation for the rest of eternity."

Frank raised an eyebrow at him, wondering where the hell _that_ came from, but then Gerard was kissing him, and all coherent thoughts flew right out the window. Gerard's mouth was warm against his and it didn't take much prodding for Frank to part his lips. He'd guiltily fantasized about this moment in a million different ways and was only too willing to respond now that it was real.

At least, he hoped it was real. Frank was going to be seriously pissed off if he woke up and it was all a dream.

Frank's hand found the back of Gerard's head and he pressed himself flush against his chest. It was clumsy, noses clashing and teeth clacking together but it didn't matter. It was perfect enough for them.  Eventually though, the need for air won out and they both pulled away, staring at each other with matching expressions of pleasant disbelief. Frank knew then that the past was the past, and he was ready to move on.

Suddenly, thunderstorms didn't seem so scary anymore.


End file.
